


Oathbound

by starmachine



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Lord High Protector AU, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, PNP, Pair Bonding, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Political Marriage, Pre-Movie, Spark touching, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starmachine/pseuds/starmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron has a duty, upon which the future of Cybertron depends.  But the new Prime has some different ideas about his obligations that could change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oathbound

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another old fic, from when I was first dipping my toes in TF fandom, when the first Bay movie came out. Aside from the movie, I knew some other bits and pieces of the movie-canon concepts, but not much; I didn't read the correlating background material like comics, so this is way AU junk.  
> I have a couple background-y thoughts for this, mostly just that Megatron is just a military officer who's been chosen for this, and Optimus was bred and raised to be Prime; they're not related and are coming from very different backgrounds.  
> Also Optimus is still an idealistic little babby, not yet the jaded, aggressive Prime of the movies (I barely remember anything past the first, but whatever)  
> So I just did some editing and added an actual opening scene (I seem to mostly do in medias res stories, but God love anyone who read this before and forgave that incredibly jarring drop-in intro, it was bad), but it's mostly as it was when I wrote it eons ago.

 

Megatron kept his gaze impassive as he strode down the hall of the Primal palace, ignoring the judgmental stares of the council mechs gathered as witnesses.  The crowd of elders parted silently to clear a path as he neared the door.  Their presence was all part of the ceremony, and also a reminder of their power – they had chosen him for this honor, as he had been reminded multiple times, but they were still the gatekeepers into this realm of power and privilege. 

Certain aspects of this ritual had been changed over the millennia to be less invasive – the council no longer sat in audience to observe the _particulars_ of the ceremony, for example – but the specter of their attention and expectations plucked at his composure.  He prayed bitterly that they would at least leave after he was locked in and not loiter around the door to listen in on him.

The oldest of the councilors, gold-encrusted and stooped, held the heavy door open to the dimmed room.  He raised a beckoning hand to Megatron, stopping the silver mech before he could enter.

“Lord Xaaron,” Megatron addressed him with the minimum of respect and bowed shortly.

“You have a great duty before you, Megatron,” Xaaron said quietly in the swinging cadence of ceremonial speech.  “I bid you to enter this chamber with honesty, piety, and love for your planet in your spark.  Both you and he shall be made anew, in perfect balance before Primus.”

“I am honored to receive this duty,” Megatron intoned.

“Then enter and be bound, as all are one, so shall you become one.”

Megatron nodded curtly and stepped over the threshold.  A thin hand tapped at his back before the door closed, and he looked back to see the councilor’s old-fashioned, mask-like face shift minutely, into a hidden gentleness.

“And be good to him,” Xaaron whispered.

The door shut and locked with a very final sound.  Now he was trapped in this chamber for the next rotation. 

He felt the cautious flex of an electric field against his own.  He turned to find the new Prime, perched on the edge of the berth, gazing at him.

The young Prime was slim, lightly-armored for a mech of such importance.  His lack of defensive covering was a hold-over design from the Golden Age, when the leaders of Cybertron were merely politicians.  It reflected the public sentiment that, since Sentinel Prime's crush of labor revolts and increased control of the off-world colonies, the planet would give rise to another era of peace.  This Prime had been groomed for the arena of public office, trained in rhetoric, philosophy, social and political theory.

Megatron could only pray that the fragility of the Prime's frame and the insipidness of his education did not extend to his spark.  The silver mech was determined to not play nursemaid for a weak-strutted intellectual.

He went down on one knee in ritual deference.  "Honorable Prime," he murmured in greeting.

"Lord Megatron," the Prime acknowledged.  "Please rise."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise.  Though I would have preferred for our first meeting to be under less formal circumstances."

Megatron shared that sentiment.  He would have preferred that this ceremony not be performed at all, but it was necessary to strengthen their connection as co-rulers.  His reservations were personal, shamefully selfish.  He had always been a private mech; the thought of becoming spark-bound to a stranger was enough to make his tanks turn.  The only comfort he had was that the councilors would not be personally inspecting his spark after the deed was done; he was not sure his dignity would survive such an examination at the hands of a crowd of doddering, disinterested elders. 

“Do you need any energon?  There is a fully-stocked dispenser,” the Prime said, gesturing to a pump on the wall.  “Or there is high-grade, if you wish…”

Megatron waved away the offer.  “Thank you, but I have already taken my daily energon.”

“As have I.  Maybe we can share some later.”

“That would be acceptable.”

The small talk was harmless, but he did not care to further postpone the inevitable.  His energy field flared expectantly towards the Prime’s, signaling his intent.  The spikes of power prickled and slid against the smooth pulses of the Prime.  Megatron was pleasantly surprised to discover that, for the mellowness of his companion’s field, it was as strong as his, and unwilling to submit to his fiercer wavelengths.

“Are you in a hurry, Lord Megatron?” the Prime asked politely.  “I was told that we must spend a full rotation in this chamber for the ritual.”

“I am a mech of action, Honorable Prime.  I mean no insult, but I wish to dispense with the pleasantries.”

To his relief, the young Prime chuckled and shifted into a more comfortable position on the berth.  “You need not apologize; I appreciate your honesty.  And please, call me Optimus.”

Megatron climbed up onto the berth, gel padding yielding under his greater bulk.  Now that he had the permission to do so, he surveyed Optimus with a less-than-professional gaze.  The sparse armor he had first regarded with contempt was now an advantage; his thicker fingers would be able to slip into Optimus’ intimate workings with ease.  As the Prime shifted, sensitive joints gleamed between plates, tantalizingly unguarded.  The vital tubing bundles of his neck and collar, so prone to grease and dust buildup, were freshly clean and oiled.  Finials at the side of his helm lacked protective capping; common among civilians, but a glaring weak spot to a soldier.  In this situation, with careful handling, they would be an extra-sensitive erogenous zone.

Everything about the Prime was high-quality.  Each movement was smooth, cables tight and lubricated.  His plating was polished and devoid of unsightly dents or dings.  And he probably did not know how attractive he was.  The clear blue optics that watched Megatron were curious, but not sexually intent.  The Prime was mature in body and intelligence, but he was likely innocent of intimacy. 

“You have never lain with another before, have you?”

“The Prime must be untouched before he Knows his Lord High Protector,” Optimus answered quietly, with no trace of self-consciousness.

Megatron slid a cautious hand up from Optimus’ ankle to his knee, feeling the flow between their energy fields crackle with surprise from the touch, electric with the novelty of sensation.

“Surely you have experienced this by yourself?” Megatron asked.  Every young mech and femme familiarized themselves with their bodies at least by the time they grew into their adult frames.

But Optimus shook his head.  “My instructors did not speak of such things, and I had little time to myself.

A virgin on all accounts.  Megatron smirked in his mind.  Among the soldiers, a scenario like this was a fantasy, an exploit to be bragged about to jealous comrades.  How ironic that a set-up which could be so eroticized would be, for him, a solemn ceremony with the one of the most holy of Cybertronian personages.

He probably should have been submissive, humble, grateful to be in his presence.  But when Optimus parted his long, slim legs, inviting Megatron into his embrace, optics glowing with welcome, lust smoldered in his spark and he was not afraid to recognize mutual want in the undulations of their energy waves.

Megatron crawled forward to take his place before Optimus, trailing his claws lightly over Optimus’ shins as he moved.  Pleasure was not usually drawn from the handling of extremity armor, but the young mech was so new to another’s touch that it was enough to stir excitement for more.

“So sensitive,” Megatron purred.

“I can turn down my sensor net if it is a problem…”

The silver mech clicked with amusement at his partner’s eagerness to accommodate him.  “No, it’s not.  I like it.  It’s…charming.”  He toyed with the back of Optimus’ knees, relishing the resulting twitches. 

A hand ghosted over his upper arm.  He looked up to find the Prime withdrawing his hand.  His energy field wavered.

“I would reciprocate, but I am…unsure of what I should do,” he murmured.

Megatron took his hand and pressed a kiss to the broad palm.  “I do not expect anything in return.  In fact, it would please me to just…explore you unhindered.”

“That doesn't seem very fair.”

“Sometimes life isn't fair, Optimus,” he murmured as he mouthed exposed wrist cables and traced the edges of thigh armor quivering under his claws.  The Prime in-vented shakily, lost for words.

Taking advantage of the silence, Megatron leaned forward to kiss him.  The lip-plates that pressed against his were awkward with inexperience, but soon pushed back eagerly.  Megatron kissed with unfamiliar gentleness to avoid accidentally biting Optimus as the mech’s glossa ran over his fangs and own glossa. 

When he pulled back, Optimus gasped through slick lips, gazing into the distance with dimmed optics.  His energy field was alive with desire.  Megatron let it wash over himself blissfully.  The pulses were clear and powerful, without reservation; uncommon to Megatron.  All of his previous lovers veiled their fields to prevent transference of subversive intent, fear, boredom - whatever negative emotions they brought to the berth.  To feel such pure, honest reverberations of energy was precious.  He wondered, slightly melancholy, if this beautiful young creature would remain so open for long in his existence. 

He fingered the hardline ports and cables at the base of Optimus’ helm as he licked along the frame of his collar, over bared tubing in his neck.  Optimus squirmed and leaned into his hand.

“You want it,” Megatron hissed.  It wasn't a question.

“Y-yes…”

The metal of the connection ports warmed with power under his claws.  He drew out their respective cords and jacked in with speed born of practice.

Optimus fell effortlessly into the connection, losing himself in the feel of Megatron on his body and in his processor.  He trembled openly with desire, shutting off his optics from all these overwhelming, delicious surges of his sensor nets.  Sharp fingers caressing the wires and metals in his hip joints, pressing into the sides of his chest to stroke rib struts, a hot glossa tasting the length of his finials, the heat of exvents rolling over his chestplates…he moaned and shook unabashedly.

Megatron struggled to remain focused, on the edge of the processor connection as Optimus flooded it with sensation.  The physical pleasure was enough to handle, but the feel of the Prime’s delight and enthusiasm was threatened to overload him prematurely. 

“Why…do you not come in…?  The connection is open…” Optimus managed to whisper.

“I cannot,” Megatron rasped.  “Not before we complete the bond…you should not bare your processor so until you Know me…”

His silver plating cracked and split apart, sparklight spilling from his chest.  Overriding instinctual urges to cover himself, he drew his shoulders back, allowing his Prime full access to his most vulnerable self.  It was difficult to expose himself like this, to a stranger, to a lover, to anyone.  He could not keep a grimace from his face.

Optimus gazed upon his spark with awe.  “Beautiful,” he murmured. 

Megatron snorted.  For the honored Prime to find his cynical, defensive spark worthy of such praise…this rotation was one of many surprises.

Reverent fingers caressed the edges of his spark.  He bit his lip to contain a cry of need. 

“Now…you must complete it…” he forced out, on the brink of overload.

Dim blue optics looked up from his spark to his face.  Optimus smiled sadly.

“No.”

He was too surprised to pull away when Optimus leaned forward and kissed his spark.  The raw pleasure was staggering; it exploded across the hardline connection.  He faintly heard Optimus echo his roar of overload before his vision went black.

 

 -------------------

 

He onlined to the smell of burnt ozone and the faint pop of cooling metal.  He tried to roll away from the Prime’s uncomfortably warm frame, but gave up when he discovered Optimus’ fingers tightly curled into the ridges and flanges of his back.  Ex-venting with mild irritation, he rested his head on Optimus’ shoulder to wait for his partner to wake.  It had been a long time since he allowed himself to soak in the afterglow like this, tangled in the limbs of a lover, without immediate concerns prodding at the back of his processor, at least for a short while.

Over the processor connection, he felt Optimus drifting in satiation.  His recharging mind was still wide open, allowing the transfer of emotions.  Megatron reached under his neck and popped out the plugs, then removed Optimus’ from his own ports.  He would have to instruct this naïve mech to keep up some firewalls in the future when he interfaced, particularly with someone he just met.  Such trust was dangerous, especially for a Prime.

And yet the Prime had refused to sparkbond with him. 

He wondered if he should feel relieved or insulted.  He settled on confusion.  Surely Optimus had been told by his handlers that the point of this ceremony was for the Prime and Lord High Protector to bond.  Without it, the co-regents would be weak, uncertain of the other’s ideas and emotions.  The dependency of the bond was a small sacrifice for the marriage of diplomacy and might in the rulers’ governing.

A soft groan alerted Megatron to his companion’s waking.  Optimus blinked up at him, smiling.

“Hello.”

“You…refused my spark,” Megatron stated blankly.

“I did,” Optimus replied.

“You realize that you completely defeated the entire purpose of the ceremony, don’t you?”

“We are meant to trust each other, but I want to earn your trust, not take it from you.  Wouldn't forcing you to bond without complete consent be a violation of our most sacred principles of freedom?  You should be free to bond with who you choose,” Optimus explained, with an earnest expression on his face like this was the most reasonable thing in the world.

Megatron huffed and pushed himself up, Optimus’ fingers finally sliding from his back. 

“That’s very generous of you, but we have to bond for a number of reasons, you know,” he said gruffly.

Optimus laced his fingers together over his abdomen, gazing at his partner calmly. 

“I know the reasons.”

“Then allow me to refresh your memory on the most basic one: the Lord High Protector must defend his Prime at all times.  With the constant communication of the sparkbond, he will always be aware of the safety of the Prime.  So what do you plan to do if you are in danger and cannot contact me?” Megatron asked.

“I will protect myself,” he answered, though faint uncertainty crept into his voice.

“Will you?  You do not know how, and your body is not built for fighting.”

“Then teach me.”

“What?”  This was unheard of.  The Prime did not do battle, that was the purpose of the Lord High Protector.

“Teach me to fight.  Help me become stronger,” Optimus implored, taking his hand.  “I will do whatever you ask.  I want to learn.”

Megatron looked away warily, hoping that the councilmechs had truly given them privacy and were not gathered outside with their audials pressed to the door.  “This is not proper…” he mumbled.

“I’m not going to force you into a sparkbond just for my own safety.”

“It’s not just your safety from enemies…Primus, I could be plotting against you; without the bond, you wouldn't know!” Megatron said bluntly.

Smiling serenely, Optimus kissed his hand.  “I’m willing to take that chance.  I will trust you always, with or without a bond.”

This was crazy.  This Prime was crazy.  There was no way this would end well. 

But…the post-ceremony spark examination had been abolished.  No one would know of their unbonded state except the two of them.

The young Prime’s expectant smile and honest belief warmed some hard, cynical piece of his spark.

Maybe it could work.  Maybe he could learn to trust Optimus the way Optimus had chosen to trust him so implicitly.

Maybe this duty wouldn't be so terrible.

Optimus sat up and embraced him, mouth near his audio.  “Ah…I’m sorry I took the overload before.  I know…you wanted to be the one to do it to me,” he murmured demurely.

Megatron grinned and pushed him back down into the berth padding.

“Well, we have all day to get it right, don’t we?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Little dramatic irony at the end maybe? Maybe Megatron's betrayal of his love and so implicitly given trust is what led Optimus to become so harsh in the future? Just kidding, I didn't plan that or anything.  
> Thanks for reading, as always.


End file.
